Page 25 of Misadventures Of A Single Mom

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Amazing wasn’t the first word that came to mind. I nodded my head weakly. “The AV has a sterile tip that collects the semen. Then it’s put into a vial, like the one you said you have, and frozen. It’s stored until needed and sent around the world.”

“Is there a big market for it?”

“Absolutely. My studs are famous for their speed, their exemplary genetic qualities and are much sought after. So much so that the stud you just saw, his semen brings in over $10,000 a vial.”

“Holy crap.” No wonder Morty wanted the vial. It would be quite the side business for him.

Dex laughed. “You find this interesting.” He still held my arm but now he moved in close, close enough to invade my personal space. “I knew you would.” He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. A chill ran down my spine at his creepy touch.

I stepped back. “Yup, it’s been interesting.” I looked at my watch. I didn’t care what time it was, I just wanted out of there. I’d had enough for one day. Maybe a lifetime. “Boy, look at the time. I’ve got to run.”

Norris Road was knownfor crappy cell service so I had to wait until I got closer to town to call Kelly.

“Remember when I told you my dream cowboy was Bobby Ewing?” I asked when I was finally in range. When I was eightI’d fantasized about marrying Bobby Ewing from the TV showDallas. I wanted to be Pamela, his wife, with her beautiful hair and clothes. Bobby wore cowboy hats, lived on a ranch and drove that fancy red Mercedes convertible. He was the bomb. Ever since then I’d dreamed about marrying a cowboy. Maybe deep down that was a reason I’d moved to Montana. But Bobby Ewing lived in Texas. Obviously, I’d picked the wrong state since I’d ended up marrying Nate the Jerk instead.

“Yeah. Please tell me Drake Dexter was super-hot like Bobby.” She sighed. “You get all the cute ones.”

“Tom’s a super stud and you know it,” I countered.

“Yeah, but he’s my husband. Not the same thing at all.”

“This guy looks nothing like Bobby Ewing. Definitely Marlboro Man.”

Kelly sighed again.

“But he’s a total perv.”

“Oh.” Kelly sounded deflated. As if her dream man turned out to be gay. You only dreamed about guys who would have sex with you.

The gas warning light on the dash came on accompanied by a ding. “Crap. I’ve got to get gas.” I hung up and drove to the nearest station on Huffine by the mall.

I fed the pump my credit card, then my car some gas. I was dying of thirst so I went inside to get a drink. I meandered through the fridge wall of the convenience store checking out all of the beverages. It smelled like hot dogs and buttered popcorn and the A/C felt good on my dusty skin. I opened the fridge and picked out a tea with ginseng and lemon when I heard, “Give me all your money!”

Holy crap.

I turned around and saw a man in a bright yellow wife beater holding a knife up to the cashier. Angled off to the side, I could see his crazy black hair standing every which way abouthis head. His eyes had a crazed, glassy look. Drugs. Definitely drugs. He looked like death warmed over, his skin color a funky gray, an open sore on his lip. If he was stupid enough to rob a convenience store in the middle of the day, his brain cells must be occupied with trying to score more drugs. Stupid, but dangerous.

Three other customers were in the store, two with the utility company with their neon orange T-shirts. They were further down the fridge wall that lined the back of the store. Another man, in his fifties, stood about five feet away from me. I was closest to the robber.

The store clerk looked panicked. He had to be eighteen and just out of high school. Pimple faced and a patchy attempt at a beard coated his cheeks like mange. He may have peed his pants with fear. I couldn’t blame the kid if he had. He didn’t make enough money to be held up by a deranged lunatic.

“Now! Open the register and give me the fucking money!” the robber shouted, his knife waving wildly about. It was a bowie knife used to gut animals during hunting season. Hopefully none of us were next.

I slowly stepped back, moving further and further from the register trying to breathe through my fear. I had that instantaneous hot flash that came with panic, kind of like just avoiding a near collision while driving. The utility workers charged past me. One pulled a gun from the back waistband of his pants. The other one held a knife that had been in a sheath attached to his leather belt. Obviously, working with the utility company required being armed at all times. No telling what type of customers they dealt with every day.

They approached Robber at the same time as a man threw open the door to the store armed with a rifle. At first, I thought he might be another bad guy, but then he yelled, “Put it down, Fucker!”

It was like living in a demilitarized zone with all the weaponry around. Montanans and their guns. Never get between them. All three Good Samaritans ganged up on Robber.

“Don’t even think about it, asshole!”

A click-click of a rifle being cocked. “Drop the knife!”

The weapon fell out of Robber’s hand onto the ground as one of the utility workers clocked him on the back of the head. He was then forced—at gunpoint—to the ground. I could practically see little birdies circle around his head. The fifty-something man had his cell out and talked with the police.

I stood there gawking and quickly closed my mouth which had fallen open. I grabbed a roll of duct tape off the shelves in front of me and handed it to one of the utility workers. He gave me a brief smile. Big and burly, he looked like he hauled a lot of cable. "Good idea." He started rolling the man’s wrists and ankles in the gray tape and had him trussed up like a Christmas goose in seconds. Must’ve done calf roping on the rodeo circuit.

“Lucky you had your gun,” I commented once he’d finished.

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